


His Now

by KateKintail



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry explores his copy of Advanced Potion-Making more closely, and more intimately</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Now

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: JKR’s characters and universe… and my pervy mind. This is only fanfic.

            Harry had the dormitory room all to himself. Ron was in the common room studying with Hermione and Neville had gone down to the greenhouses to help Professor Sprout with some repotting. Dean was off with— much to Harry’s disappointment— Ginny, and Seamus… well, Harry wasn’t entirely sure where Seamus was except for the fact that he wasn’t in the dormitory.

            Wanting and needing to be alone, Harry locked the door with a few different spells, one of which would at least give him warning if anyone was trying to get in. He had told his friends he wanted to study on his own for a little while, and while he did have his potions text tucked under one arm, it had been a bit of a fib. What he really wanted to do was to explore the book that was his now more closely in private. He’d thought he’d seen… something other than just corrections in the book. And while Harry didn’t read textbooks in bed, this was hardly the standard textbook.

            As he walked from the door over to his bed, his school robes suddenly felt heavy and his face felt flushed. Without really thinking anything except that he was suddenly a little warm, he stripped off his robes and tossed them on top of the trunk at the foot of his bed. He kicked off his shoes as well, then climbed up onto the bed in his dressing shirt and shorts.

            Harry lay down and stretched out on his side. His left elbow rested on his pillow and his arm bent back for him to rest his head against his hand. His right hand set the book down in front of him on the bed and began flipping randomly through the pages. The handwriting was just about everywhere. Writing over ingredients and instructions and making notes in the margins as well.

            That tiny, cramped handwriting. Hermione had said it looked like a girl’s, but Harry was sure she was wrong in that. It was bold in its strokes. Definite and purposeful. Harry flipped to the very first page and stared at the line of ownership once more:

_**This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince** _

Tentatively, Harry’s hand reached out and his fingertips brushed the words ever so lightly, as though testing to see if the ink had dried. He traced the letters, the curves, the connections. The words seemed to come alive to him, dancing before him on the page in all their beauty. Surely Hermione was wrong about this. Stranger things had happened than Hermione being wrong about something, after all. Now more than ever, Harry was convinced the Prince was a guy.

            He had to be. He couldn’t feel this way about him if he wasn’t. Harry reached down and adjusted himself in his shorts unconsciously. Then he began flipping through the pages of his  _Advanced Potion-Making_  textbook. As he got through the first chapter, he realized there was definitely more to the book than just a few corrections to potions.

            There was a spell called  _Muffliato_  which, to the best of Harry’s imagination, must muffle words in some way. He studied it carefully, fully intending to try it out later when he was in a big group of people, rather than alone. There was a jinx to make someone’s wand hand shake. There was a charm for momentary magnification. When Harry pulled out his wand and tried that one, the part of the book he tried it on magnified so large that Harry was suddenly face-to-face with the Prince’s bold lowercased ‘s’. He blinked at it, his eyes following the curve and the way the bottom part didn’t quite connect with the back part of it. But then everything went back to normal. Except for the fact that Harry’s heart was now pounding. Trying out one of the Prince’s inventions had been far more thrilling than even trying the variations of potion instructions to success had been. Harry suddenly found he had been rubbing his hand up and down the length of his wand.

            He was still warm, and he realized he was still wearing his dress shirt, which was going to get wrinkled most likely if he continued to lie about in bed. So Harry rolled over onto his back to undo the buttons with both hands. As he strained his neck to lift his chin and look down at the buttons, he looked beyond to see a bulge in his shorts and his cheeks flushed even though he was alone. He narrowed his eyes at it and tried to think of something else. But he couldn’t really get his mind off his curiosity about his textbook. Finally, he sighed resignedly. “All right,” he whispered to his cock. “All right, maybe I fancy the Half-Blood Prince just a little.” His cock twitched happily to hear the admission, and it strained against the insides of his shorts.

            Harry rolled his eyes. Well, if he was taking his shirt off, he might as well go all the way. He pulled off his shirt, folded it neatly, then tugged down his shorts by the waistband. He sat up, pulling them off completely along with his socks and  _Merlin_ but he was hard. Harry gulped. “Maybe I fancy the Prince a lot.” His cock twitched again and longed for some contact. And since the Prince wasn’t here, Harry took it in hand to pacify it.

            His fingers wrapped around the shaft and he sighed at the loveliness of that touch. It was almost impossible to get the room to himself, what with so many roommates, so usually the showers served as his usual location for this. But without the shower spray raining upon him, the touch was much softer, smoother, and far more sensual. He slid his hand up and down very slowly, not really intending to go much further. He wanted to read, after all.

            He raised his head a little and turned the pages with his left hand. There was a spell called  _Floradona_  above which the Prince had written (for gardens). He couldn’t imagine what that must do, but even as he read it, he was sure the Prince was not only a bloke, but quite skilled in a variety of magical subjects. He’d taken quite a lot of Herbology and had never thought of creating spells to aid plants. Impressed, he continued on, reading every little comment and every little note of the Prince’s he could find.

            The Prince’s handwriting was becoming easier to interpret. It was still scrunched into tiny spaces and not at all neat, but it was starting to look familiar now. The gentle slant. The way certain letters were formed. The messiness indicating the speed at which the words were written. In his browsing, Harry stumbled upon a spell that was clearly written hurriedly. It was entitled:

_**For When You’re Alone** _

Harry cocked his head at the title, smiling. Well, he was definitely alone now. Could the Prince mean what Harry thought this meant?

            With one hand still gliding up and down his cock, paying it just enough attention to keep his urges in check, he picked up his wand in his other and read the spell:

_**Hold wand in left hand** _

Harry smiled. He had already done that much already.

**_Circle tip of wand in clockwise direction_ **

**_Whisper the words: Avin Evin Envele_ **

Harry took a deep breath, then followed the other instructions. “ _Avin Evin Envele_ ,” He whispered somewhat unsteadily. He felt a bit nervous, but somewhat thrilled by the prospect of not knowing what precisely would happen.

            The moment he said the words, he felt his cock throb suddenly, and he pulled his hand back in surprise. However, it still felt like his hand was there. Something seemed to slide over his cock from the tip downward. Something warm, something that squeezed. It was almost like the sensation of thrusting his cock through his fist, only much tighter and warmer. Harry gasped as he remained still but the sensation changed. Whatever it was was moving up and down the length of his cock.

            He clapped his now free hand to his chest, feeling his heart race wildly with excitement. This felt just wonderful. Incredibly good. Irresistibly good. His hand slid down and went to touch his cock out of curiosity, but hit hand couldn’t get close enough. It was as though the spell had set up a barrier around his cock that his hand could not penetrate. Try as he might, he could not make contact with it. This left both his hands free to touch other things, Harry realized, while the spell took good care of his cock.

            So dropped his wand and rolled over onto his back. One hand slid over his chest, fingering his naval, pinching his nipples, running over his whole chest to claim it and know it. His other brushed against his balls, squeezing gently. Harry groaned with pleasure. This was unreal. And completely wonderful. His hips began to buck as he thrust forward into the invisible something that had enveloped his cock. Almost impossibly, the sensations there intensified to match, seeming to slide more quickly up and down his cock.

            Harry’s head lolled to the side. He was getting ready to burry his face into the pillow to muffle a cry. But he caught sight of  _Advanced Potion-Making_  again and a smile appeared on his face. “For when you’re alone indeed,” Harry chuckled, albeit a bit breathlessly. It was the book that was making this happen. Or, more accurately, the Prince. The Prince and his wonderfully clever mind. It was like the Prince was touching him right now, through the words of the spell. It was the Prince he was thrusting into. It was the Prince who was making him feel so damn good.

             _So_  damn good. Better than Harry could ever remember feeling before. He kept his eyes trained on the book, and on this spell crammed on the open page’s margin. Every time he thought about the Prince, a rush ran through his body from head to toe and his cock leaked with desire. The handwriting there was sloppy and rushed, even for the Prince, and Harry now understood why.

             He could imagine the Prince lying in a Hogwarts dormitory bed, just as Harry was doing now, experimenting with words and flicks of his wand. The Prince was not only talented and clever, but also very handsome. Though Harry couldn’t imagine his face, he saw the body very clearly in his mind’s eye. Muscular but sleek. Young, like him, but large. Large where it mattered. He could see the man’s body swaying slightly with urges, urges like Harry had felt just moments ago. He could sense the desperation and frustration. And he could see the body tense up with pleasure when the Prince stumbled upon the correct working of the spell. The way the Prince’s body moved in reaction to it was just as Harry’s had done. And then Harry could imagine the Prince immediately picking up a quill and copying down the actions so he would never, ever forget them, just before giving himself over to the complete pleasures of the spell.

            And those words he’d written, while caught in passion, were the very ones Harry stared at now. Gasping, thrusting, softly moaning, Harry’s hand left his chest and his fingers touched the words. And that was all it took. The feelings within him intensified and he cried out, spilling his seed onto himself.

            It was the most pure, most intense orgasm Harry had known, and when it finally died away, Harry froze with reverence. His hands were clean, as he finally reached for his wand and used another spell to clear his mess away. Then he lay on his back, happily spent.

            There was a knock on the door not long after. “Harry?” It was Neville. “Can I come in for a minute? I forgot my Defense Against the Dark Arts book inside!” 

            Harry winced slightly. A reference to Snape was definitely the quickest way to kill his blissful euphoria. He cleared his throat and called out. “Right, Neville. One second and I’ll get the door!” Harry took a deep breath, collected himself, then pulled his robes on over his naked body. The fabric felt strange against his warm, bare skin.

            As he climbed off his bed, he glanced back at the book, still lying open to the marvelous spell. Harry smiled broadly. Hermione was definitely wrong. The Prince had most definitely been a guy. He wouldn’t be able to explain to her why he now knew that for certain, and he’d have to be careful not to let anyone else see the spell. The book… the spell… the Prince… they were his now.


End file.
